


His Salvation

by gxrlterror



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1943, F/M, Hogwarts, Hufflepuff, Slytherin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29317920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gxrlterror/pseuds/gxrlterror
Summary: He was going to destroy her. Her. The Hufflepuff with honey brown hair and sharp emerald green eyes that he couldn't get out of his godforsaken head. So innocent, so pure, so full of joy and life.Everything he hated.Seraphina Loriss was her name. He hated that he remembered it, but prided himself in knowing that soon enough, she would only be screaming one name and one name only.His.
Relationships: Tom Riddle/OC
Comments: 5
Kudos: 93





	1. I

TOM

He was finally back after another dreadful summer. Leaving the hellhole he called 'the orphanage'. His life had become an endless loop for him; numbing him. It was the same thing over and over again. Every. Single. Year.

And he had to get used to it because nothing would change. So he observed the world carefully—bottling up his emotions, putting on his mask, and making everyone believe what he wanted them to believe. Except for one person and one person only. Albus Dumbledore. Tom couldn't begin to fathom any reason in which he could've seemed untrustworthy to Dumbledore. I mean, he was the top student of his year—charming, brilliant, witty, resourceful, cunning, ambitious.

Everything a Slytherin should be.

Except he was so very wrong about his first point. Because he didn't have everyone wrapped around his finger as he once thought. No, no, no. There was one other. A single outlier. He didn't realize it but this one would stop him from carrying out his plan. But he didn't see this one until she ran into him.

Physically.

When they collided, he barely had any reaction to the person's presence. But it was when he dropped his diary, his anger flared. Whipping around to face the culprit, he was forced to look down to find a witch with honey brown hair and piercing green eyes staring back at him.

In the eyes.

Something people rarely did unless he initiated it. He found that she wasn't intimidated by him at all. And he hated it. Absolutely despised it. Who did this girl think she was? As if on instinct he drew his wand, thinking of the proper hex to put this clumsy witch in her rightfully deserved place. But much to his surprise when she met his glare, she laughed. Her eyes crinkled, sparkling with amusement while she raised her hands up as if she was surrendering. Something Muggles did.

Strange, he thought to himself.

The girl before him chuckled, "No need to draw your wand on me." When her eyes met his, she cocked her head at him. "You look as if you want to kill me."

Blunt.

Trust me, his mind hissed. I've already thought of many ways I could do it.

Her smile fell when he didn't respond. Good, he thought. Don't fucking smile. Her eyes bored into his, studying him just as he was doing the same to her. "Well, in that case, I'm sorry."

Before he could say a word, she bent down, picking up his diary. He fought the urge to grab it from her and shove her in the process, taking a few more minutes to observe the girl in front of him instead. She was tall, though still many inches shorter than Tom. Skinny, but not to the point of lanky. Her wavy hair caught the light in the most perfect way, letting her natural golden highlights shine through.

But that wasn't what caught his attention. It was her eyes. Her eyes were the hue of spring growth, catching the light just as her hair did. Soft and bright all at once. They were the glimmering color of emerald, sparkling in the light. Utterly captivating, but reeking of innocence.

And it was now his mission to destroy that innocence. And below her eyes, were small freckles, powdering her nose and cheeks. But then, his eyes found her uniform—the yellow tie popping out at him. Taunting him. A Hufflepuff. She was even more infuriating than he could even begin to imagine. All of the Hufflepuffs were soft, reliant little pushovers who needed validation from everyone else. He watched as her eyes fell down to his diary as she lifted it toward his body. "I have one just like this."

His mouth formed words before he couldn't stop himself. "A diary?"

"No," she admitted through a breathed out chuckle. "A sketchbook."

Intrigued.

Something he rarely felt for anything—let alone someone.

But then he saw something flash before her eyes when she looked up at him. "You have a..." She trailed off, a playful smile creeping upon her face. "diary?"

"Is there a problem with that?" he asked sharply. He was becoming defensive, dropping his mask because of the anger that was ripping through his body. Like a parasite. She was the parasite. He quickly hissed. "I thought Hufflepuffs were the nice ones."

"You mistake patience for being nice," she chided in a calm manner.

How dare she speak to me like that? he thought, shaking his head. But when he looked back up, she was already walking away. No one ever walks away from him. He was so focused on the fact that she stood up against him that he stiffened when a hand clapped him on the back.

He heard a familiar gruff laugh. "Welcome back, Riddle."

He turned around, his expression neutral. Curt nods were exchanged. "Hello, Avery."

The wizard before him rolled his eyes. "Always so professional, Riddle."

The left side of his lips tugged upwards creating a sinister smirk on his god-like face; casting a spell of desire and lust to eyes that dared to look his way. He always had that effect on everyone. He enjoyed it—the power he held over the students, the professors.

Everyone.

He thrived on it. Soon, Lestrange, Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, and Dolohov all made their way to the group, chatting amongst themselves. When the time came to walk into the Great Hall, his group stayed behind. They always did, having the luxury of being the last students to enter.

While Tom was listening to his so-called friends, he heard a laugh. Loud, bright, joyful, so full of life. The type of laughter you could hear from a mile away and still remember it as clear as day. It was music to his ears. A gift from the angels.

But it had to come from her.

Their entire group turned to look toward the doorway where the brunette witch—and another girl with dark black curls and mocha skin—stood. She was leaning against the wall, her sketchbook in hand. He realized that indeed, her sketchbook looked identical to his diary. He had to pat his robes first to make sure his diary was still there.

"Now who's that," Avery laughed.

Tom's jaw tensed before he shot Avery a look as if to say, back off. Avery smirked, though none of the others noticed their wordless conversation. Tom turned back, observing the witch who was now furiously scribbling in her sketchbook.

"She's a Hufflepuff, you horny prat," Lestrange snapped, flicking Avery in the back of the head. "The Hufflepuffs are always the worst."

Tom could practically hear Rosier's eye roll. "I bet they're all freaks in bed. Making everyone believe they're innocent and pure."

"I bet she's a freak," Avery laughed. "Just look at her. She's hot as shit and that skirt. It's barely covering her—"

"Shut. Up," Nott hissed, elbowing Avery in the gut. The rest of them laughed but stopped when she looked up.

Her eyes met his instantly, and for long drawn-out seconds, they just stared at each other.

"She knows," Mulciber hissed. "She knows."

This time, Rosier was the one to throw an elbow. "She doesn't know shit. Stop being a git, Mulciber."

Her mouth moved much too quickly for Tom to be able to read her lips. Those full, red, luscious lips. He mentally cursed himself for that last observation. His expression remained flat as he raised an eyebrow as if to say, what?

She repeated her statement again, mouthing it much slower this time. "How's the diary?"

He shot her a glare, which only caused a giggle to escape her lips. Who was this girl and why isn't she afraid? His hands balled up into fists as he tried to keep his emotions under control. He was always in control, but at this point, he was learning that she made it drastically harder for him.

"Am I too mean for you?" she mouthed.

He mouthed back, "Not in the slightest."

She winked. The Hufflepuff winked. Tom could imagine what she sounded like as she mouthed, "Perfect."

Before he could say anything, her friend turned around to meet his gaze. A smirk played out on his face as he winked at the pair. The friend's smile fell and he watched approvingly as the girl grabbed the brunette witch's wrist and pulled her through the doors of the Great Hall.

That was the type of reaction he thrived on. But it all came to a halt when he heard Dolohov's voice. "Now what was that about, Riddle?"

He turned around. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Avery scoffed. "You never informed us about having the Hufflepuff all wrapped around your finger."

"Don't worry about her," he sneered. "She's a Hufflepuff after all."

"Finally someone gets it," Lestrange groaned.

"But I want to know everything about her," he ordered. "Figure it out."

He didn't wait for their protests, or opinions, or anything. Hell, he wouldn't listen to them. They only listen to him. He turned on his heel and walked through the doors of the Great Hall, the rest of his group following close behind. Much to his dismay, his eyes betrayed him as he looked over at the Hufflepuff table. It took him only a few seconds to spot her at their table, only to find that she was staring back at him.

No, she wasn't staring, she was studying him and his group. His eyes stayed trained on her as they all reached the Slytherin table, but she was now focused on her sketchbook, pencil moving quickly against the paper. Tom watched as she lifted her sketchbook up and showed some of her friends whatever she drew, which had them all bursting out in laughter. His face darkened into a scowl when a few of the other Hufflepuffs looked over at the Slytherin table, obviously whispering about them.

Nott's voice cut through Tom's thoughts, though his eyes stayed trained on that table. "Are they laughing at us?"

"They better not be if they know what's good for them," came Lestrange's response through a sneer. "I've been dying to try out some new hexes I've learned over the summer."

Summer.

Tom hated the summer.

His hand clenched into tight fists under the table. His fingernails dug into his skin, the pain reminding him that he's alive. But the pain was also a reminder of his weakness. Being human. Humans were weak. That was his ultimate weakness. And he hated that more than he hated summer.

The Hufflepuff caught his eye again, instantly locking. Brown and green. Dark and light. But unlike the others, her smile didn't falter. Instead, much to his surprise, she quirked an eyebrow at him. Innocently, even. A fake innocence. Just as Rosier stated. Challenge, he then realized. She was challenging him. Seeing how far she could go before he would snap. But he wouldn't allow himself to stop. Instead, he would brush it off and act as if her insufferable behavior didn't affect him.

He would play this game, but better.

Because Tom Marvolo Riddle was known for his charm, his wit, his intelligence, his ambition, his beauty. And there was no way in hell, he would let that Hufflepuff beat him at this game. He was too close to his ultimate victory to stop now. But first, it looked like he had to take a quick detour. A detour with honey brown hair and emerald eyes. He was always known for enjoying challenges, for going above and beyond in everything he did.

The Hufflepuff before him was a challenge. Specifically, a jigsaw puzzle. Only a few pieces were put together right now, but he would find the rest of them. He would figure her out and put all of the pieces back together. Gaining her trust in the process and leading her through the darkness, his darkness, as if she was a lost little puppy. Leading her the wrong way, while truly getting her wrapped around his finger in the process.

And then, when the puzzle was finally complete...

He would destroy it.


	2. II

SERAPHINA

She was drawn to him.

Why she couldn't understand. It was something about his eyes. Those deep, dark pools filled with mystery and wisdom. Every time he would look at her, she felt as if he knew everything about her. He was gorgeous. Not the kind of gorgeous that's inviting. The kind of gorgeous that shouldn't exist. His jet black hair, pale skin, and a perfectly chiseled body paired with that sharp jawline.

He was the picture of absolute perfection.

After their first encounter, she watched him carefully. Seeing as his whole demeanor changed with her gone. He was laughing, joking around, making all the girls swoon. But she saw through his facade that he created to fool everyone around him. She saw him. Because when she ran into him and his dark gaze raked over her, she felt afraid. When she made that joke about him killing her and seeing that look in his eyes, she knew that he was actually considering it.

He was bad news.

But Seraphina continued to push at those limits. Because she wanted to see how far she could get before he would snap in front of everyone and show them his true colors. But when he and his group made their way into the Great Hall, she was completely mesmerized. He seemed so... at ease, in his element. He didn't seem dark, brooding, or menacing.

He just seemed... human.

And when their eyes locked, it was as if time stopped. While he was focused on her, she was focused on all of them; her pencil moving frantically in the process. Shading, erasing, outlining, darkening. When Seraphina was finally finished with her drawing; adding tails and devil horns to the shadows for effect, she showed Simone her work.

When her best friend burst out laughing, she got the attention of the other Hufflepuffs around her. All of them began to laugh as well; Seraphina joining in when she felt his eyes on her. Slowly, she turned her head so her eyes met his. Her smile didn't fall, but instead, she raised an eyebrow at him innocently.

His face darkened into a scowl and Seraphina looked down at her sketchbook, chuckling quietly to herself. Flipping to a new page, she started to sketch as they all waited for the First Years to come in and get sorted. Her younger brother was included in that group.

"Miss Loriss," a voice called out.

She looked around quickly, searching for the person who called out her name. Finally, her eyes fell on the High Table, seeing Professor Dumbledore waving her over. With all Hufflepuff eyes on her, she got up from her seat and brought her sketchbook with her to the table. She could feel his gaze on her with every step that she took, desperately trying not to look in his direction. Seraphina knew she was not in trouble, but her nerves still got the best of her.

"How did it go?" he asked, a warm and welcoming smile on his face.

She nodded her head, a small smile appearing on her face as she talked about it. "Good actually. I'm surprised I was able to keep a leaf in my mouth for a whole month."

Dumbledore nodded his head. "Have you logged everything with—"

"The Animagus Registry?" she offered. Dumbledore nodded so she quickly added, "Yes, I have. You won't be finding me in Azkaban anytime soon."

Dumbledore chuckled. "That's good. Now, if you wouldn't mind me asking... what is your Animagus?" Seraphina quickly opened her sketchbook, flipping through the pages until she found one specific one. She slid the book over, Dumbledore's eyes examining her drawing carefully. He scratched his beard, a small smile of approval on his face. "You are quite the artist."

"I just draw what I see," she chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm fairly sure that it's a cheetah."

The professor nodded his head. "Have you told your father yet?"

She bit down on her lower lip, shaking her head. "No, I don't think he would understand why I chose to—"

"Well, didn't you do it for her?" the professor questioned. "I'm sure your father would understand if you'd explain it to him."

Slowly, she nodded her head. "I guess so, but I'm just afraid. What if he doesn't understand? What if people don't accept me for—"

"Take a deep breath Miss Loriss," Dumbledore sighed. "Being an Animagus takes great skill. You should be proud that you could do such a thing at your age."

Their small talk continued for a few more minutes before she went back to her seat. Dumbledore was the only professor she could truly trust with her issues. He was like her father figure when her real father turned to alcohol. And from there on out, she went to him when she had problems.

He was always there for her.

Her eyes flew up when the doors to the Great Hall opened, the First Years all following closely behind Professor Merrythought, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. When she got to the front where the stool was, all of the students became silent.

Professor Merrythought states. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts."

A few minutes later, the Sorting Ceremony was in full swing. She heard Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor twice, and then Slytherin. On and on different first years were sorted until she heard one name called. "Oliver Loriss."

Seraphina's eyes shot up and watched as her younger brother walked up to the stool. He sat down and the Sorting Hat was placed on his head. "Ah," the hat said, "another Loriss. Strong bloodline I may say."

She felt Simone nudge her. Seraphina's eyes met the ones of her best friend and the two shared a small smile before both turned their attention to her brother. "But you are much different from your sister. You take after your father, while your sister takes after your mother. This is an easy one..."

She sucked in a breath.

"Slytherin."

Her brother's eyes widened when he looked over at her. Seraphina began to clap, smiling warmly and nodding her head at her brother. The Slytherin table joined in, cheering for Oliver. He sat down and instantly began to talk with the other kids around him. Seraphina allowed herself to relax for the rest of the ceremony and banquet.

Because instead of living, she just allowed herself to exist. She was back where she belonged with her friends. What more could she want? The comforting hum that enveloped her like a blanket was ripped away when she met his cold and challenging gaze. A smirk slowly crept upon that unnaturally beautiful face of his when he realized he had her undivided attention. It was as if he felt accomplished knowing that it was her gaze that was on him.

She saw his mouth move and her brows furrowed as she tried to make out his words. Recognition flashed behind his dark irises, though he rolled his eyes in annoyance. It was as if he expected her to be able to read his fast-moving lips. Again, he repeated himself, but much slower than before.

"That's your brother?" he mouthed, his head jerking to the side where Oliver sat.

Her gaze darkened into a scowled as she mouthed back. "Don't even think about it."

He smirked, getting out of his seat. Seraphina was forced to watch as he walked over to his brother and knelt down, whispering something unintelligible to him. She watched as her brother chuckled, his eyes meeting hers. Her brother mouthed. "You know him?"

No. She mouthed. "Yes."

Oliver nodded in approval. "He's cool."

Seraphina faked a smile before the guy clapped her brother on the back and made his way back to his seat. "What's your name?" she asked with an accusatory glare, not a single sound leaving her mouth.

"I am Lord Voldemort," he mouthed, the smirk never leaving his face.

Confusion was inevitable for her. "What?"

"Anagram."

A split second later she was on her feet, mumbling some excuse about not feeling well. She lied about heading back to her dorm and instead, rushed to the library. Seraphina knew very little about anagrams, but she was going to figure it out. She looked through different books, using her sketchbook pages as scratch paper to create different combinations of possible names. Scratch after scratch, each potential name was crossed out.

Many breaks were taken until she thought back to who she saw him with and what Simone told her.

\- flashback -

"He's bad news, Sera," Simone hissed as she dragged her through the doors of the Great Hall.

"Why?"

"He's a well-known player."

"And? It's not like I know him or anything—"

She saw Simone roll her eyes. "You two were hardcore flirting. It doesn't take a pair of eyes to—"

"It obviously does because you're not seeing straight," Seraphina chuckled in response. "Who are they anyway?"

"Have you been living under a fucking rock?" Simone asked. "They're the most popular guys at this school. Even if all of them are fucking players. Everyone loves them and you're telling me you have no idea who any of them are?

"Nope."

"You're hopeless."

\- end of flashback -

From what Simone told her, there was Lestrange, Avery, Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov, and Riddle. That was all she needed. One by one she reformed the letters, crossing out the ones she used and figuring out the rest until finally, she had one single name. She crossed out the rest, circling her answer.

"So you've figured it out," a husky voice chuckled.

She felt his warm breath against her neck, goosebumps rising on her body. She flinched hard, closing her sketchbook on instinct. She looked back to see the Slytherin wizard pull up a chair, a smile on his face. This one wasn't cold or intimidating, it was just... a smile. Of content maybe, she couldn't tell.

"How about a fresh start?" he asked, lifting his hand out for her. "Tom Marvolo Riddle, pleasure to meet you..."

He trailed off, waiting for her answer. Her name, she realized. But instead, she had a different idea. "Nephrosis Alaris."

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

She whispered with a coy smile on her face. "Anagram."

She got up from her seat and grabbed her sketchbook, walking toward the doors. She heard him chuckle behind her, but that wasn't what stopped her. What stopped her was when he spoke. "Seraphina Loriss."

Slowly, she turned around, raising an eyebrow at him. "How did you figure that out so quickly."

"Oliver Loriss," he stated. "Your brother, no?" Before she could say anything, he continued on. "That was six letters, leaving nine others. Your brother called you Sera, leaving five left to unscramble."

"No paper necessary?" she scoffed incredulously.

He smirked, repeating her statement. "No paper necessary."

"You must be good at things like that then," she chuckled.

He cocked his head to the side. "Like what?"

"Puzzles."

He smirked. "I'm great at puzzles."

She nodded her head, taking in his words. Then, they were back to silence, just staring at each other as they once did before. He got up from his seat, closing the space between the two of them. She knew he expected her to back up, to run away, to look down. Anything but continuing to look into those dark eyes of his. But, that was exactly what she did.

Slowly Seraphina raised her hand, outstretching it toward him. She was waiting for him to take her hand and shake it, just as he offered minutes ago.

"Well then, it's a pleasure to meet you." There was a beat. "Tom."

He took her hand.


End file.
